Black Sunrise
by sammisosa
Summary: Hermione finds something unexpected while spending a summer in Hong Kong. Delving into new magic with Zabini, the two hatch plans for the world; plans that could mean the end of the wizarding world as they know it. BZHG dark Hermione R&R!
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, will never be. You know the drill, it's only the plot.

* * *

"So where are you going, again?"

"Oh, for crying out loud. I've told you about two dozen times already. Hong Kong. It's in China, but used to be a British colony, until 1997. Before we took over the area, it..."

"Yes, yes, great Hermione. But why?" Ginny inquired. "You've spent all your previous summers here. Or someplace in Europe at least. Why suddenly Hong Kong, of all places?"

"Well, a family we know has moved there, and my parents think I should go visit, and at the same time see somewhere new. They have some sort of Health conference that they need to go to in America, so they can't come with me."

"Wow. Sounds like fun. I wish I could go somewhere now. But mom and dad can't afford a hotel, and we don't really know anyone outside of Europe. Or England for that matter."

"Come on, Gin, I don't think I'll enjoy it as much as you'd expect. Our family friends, the Sussmans? They aren't really my kind of people. Very... uh... lenient about what their kids get up to."

"Well, I'm just saying. At least you'll be able to relax, and get away from this blasted place."

"I suppose. But I need to be going. I'll see you when I get back, yeah?"

"OK. Have fun!"

Hermione pulled Ginny into a tight hug before moving to the window and shouting a goodbye to the boys, who were playing Quidditch outside.

Already running a little late, Hermione said a hurried thank you to Molly and Arthur Weasley, before taking a pinch of Floo powder, throwing it into the fireplace, and enunciating clearly, "Granger Residence".

* * *

The minute she got home, Mrs. Granger proclaimed "About time! The taxi is here already! Brush yourself off, comb your hair and go get your suitcase. I would go with you to the airport, but I can't be any later for work."

"Don't worry mom, you can go now, I'll lock up before I leave."

"You sure?"

With an affirmative nod, Hermione gave her mother a hug. "Love you. Tell dad I said bye, I'll call you or something when I get to Hong Kong."

"OK then, darling. Be safe. Say 'hi' to Morgan and Jamie for me, will you?"

"Sure mom, I will. Love you."

"Love you too. Bye! And have fun."

And with that, her mom walked out the door. Standing there a second longer, she heard the engine start, and her mom's car peeled out of the driveway and into the street. Sighing, Hermione trudged up the stairs and entered her room. Checking a last time that she had everything with her, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and lugged her suitcase out to the waiting taxi. Seating herself in the back, she quickly lost herself in her thoughts, and the passing scenery.

To be perfectly honest, Hermione Granger did not know her way around the airport at all. Yes, Check-In and Immigration were simple enough, but the departure gates were all over the place. Hermione was getting frustrated. Looking at her watch, she figured she could spare some time in a café, just to relax a bit before the flight. Flying was never her favorite mode of transport. She found a small coffee shop, vaguely wondering if they got enough revenue for the expensive airport rent from over priced coffee, or simply lots of customers. She sat, and ordered herself a caramel latte. Sighing to herself, she pulled a book out of her bag, and began to read, while waiting for her drink. Just as she set eyes on the first page of her book, however, someone standing vaguely next to her asked "Is this seat… Granger?"

Whipping around, Hermione saw an unexpected sight. The one and only Blaise Zabini. Of all people, she had to meet Malfoy's right-hand man at the airport, while she was on holiday.

_Oh, woe is me. What on earth have I done to anger the Almighty?_

His haughty features were schooled into a look of disgust, and amusement bordering on horror, that seemed, if possible, graceful.

"What are you doing here, Zabini?"

"Well, I was hoping to take one of these plane things, and get on or into it so the nice young man who controls it can take me somewhere exotic." He replied sarcastically.

Hermione just stared.

"I'm glad you like what you see, but that vacant look is so unbecoming of you, and it's slightly unnerving being stared after lustily by a Mudblood."

The dreaded 'M-word' snapped her out of her reverie, and she narrowed her eyes.

"Well, why would you, a 'high-and-mighty' Pureblood," she spat, "be here, in a totally muggle place? Can't you find some other way to travel?"

Zabini's disgust was swiftly replaced with a smirk.

"Weeeell," he said, drawing out the word, "thing is, my parents thought it would be a learning experience, as I tend to take wizarding travel for granted. It's like how your rich muggle doctors go to poor places to 'experience the poverty and hardship.' Or whatever. Anyway, wonderful conversing with you, Granger, but I must be on my way. Don't want to miss my flight because of you."

Turning on his heel, Zabini stalked off, leaving Hermione sitting there slightly disturbed. When suddenly, and odd thought wormed its way into her head.

_The movies were right. The bad guys have always been into this monologue thing, haven't they?_

Grimacing, Hermione looked at her watch, and seeing that she had only about 20 minutes remaining to sit and enjoy the remainder of her coffee, she paid and left, but not before asking for directions to Gate 23.

Finally, having managed to board her plane, Hermione found her seat, and promptly pulled out her book again, waiting for takeoff.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seat belts, and adjust your seats to the upright position. The pilot and crew would like to welcome you onto flight CX 305, Cathay Pacific."

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived in the Hong Kong International Airport. Please wait for the pilot to switch off the seat belt sign before retrieving your belongings from the overhead compartments, thank you."

Hermione was exhausted, to say the least. She had slept most of the flight, but traveling always managed to drain her. Currently, she was just going with the flow of other travelers, all too aware that she was in a new country where she didn't speak the language, and in the world's largest airport. Hoping that the crowd would take her to roughly where she needed to go, Arrival Zone B. Passing through Immigration, and still following the crowd, she retrieved her luggage, and made her way out of a pair of automatic sliding glass doors. Hermione could not express her relief at seeing a huge blue obelisk, marked with the letter 'B'. If only she could find Cori. All around her, people were united with their friends, relatives, lovers. A constant cacophony of greetings, tears, and laughter. Glancing at a collection of clocks above the Information desk told her it was 10:30, Hong Kong time. Hermione had told Cori that she'd be arriving around ten.

_Oh shit. What if she's left? What am I going to do? The plane was a bit behind schedule, and it took me a while to get through immigration._

A ream of 'worst case scenarios' began playing through her head. What if she never showed up? What if something had happened to Cori on the way there? What if she tried to get to Cori's home by taxi, only to be abducted by the foreign taxi driver? What if…

_Oh wait. She gave me her number. Haha._

Mentally berating herself, Hermione walked over to the Information counter, and asked where the nearest public payphone was, as she didn't have a mobile phone. The woman behind the desk looked at her strangely. No mobile phone? Must be some new breed of human being. Still looking a tad perplexed, she pointed over to a wall behind her, where stood a payphone, shiny new. Thanking the woman, Hermione walked over to the phone, wondering if she was the first person to have ever used it. Inserting some coins, and mentally congratulating herself on having gotten the best exchange rates around, Hermione dialed the number and waited.

Brring.

Brring. Brring.

Brring.

_Please pick up please pick up please pick up._

A calm woman's voice came on the line "The number you have dialed cannot be reached at present. Please try again later."

"Shit."

Getting more nervous by the moment, Hermione walked back to the Zone 'B' marker, and found a bench to sit at. Hauling her suitcase next to her, she contemplated what to do next.

_Maybe she was just late._

_By 30, no 45 minutes now?_

Sighing, she buried her head in her hands. She was tired. She was hungry. And she wanted to see a familiar face.

"Oh mother of Merlin. Please tell me you are not Hermione Granger. Oh bloody hell."

_No no no. That cannot be Zabini. Fuck. I need an aspirin._

Wearily raising her head, she confirmed that she was indeed Hermione Granger.

Zabini's eyes narrowed.

"Are you stalking me? Seriously. Or have you been sent by that precious Order of yours to make sure that I, the big bad Slytherin, have not come to destroy Asia, one overpopulated city at a time?"

"Ugh. Drop it, Zabini. I'm tired. And I want to find my friend, Cori. Either you help me find her, or you leave me alone and piss off."

_Slytherin or not, please help me find her. Damn it. _

"OK then." He turned on his heel and walked off.

_Argh!_

Hermione sat on the bench for another good fifteen minutes, trying to quell the pounding that had developed in her head. Looking up, she saw that the crowds had dispersed somewhat.

"Excuse me, mister. Have you seen a European girl, with really bushy hair around here? ... Fuck… Excuse me, mister…"

A tall, well-built brunette dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with the words 'Define Girlfriend' emblazoned across the front was running around asking all the people she could find about some bushy-haired girl. Turning in exasperation, she saw Hermione sitting on the bench, and at that second, the most ridiculous grin plastered itself across her face.

"HERMIONE! I'm so sorry I'm so late! The traffic was a bitch coming down from home, and I had to take a cab. How was your flight?"

Answering Cori's rapid fire questions as they walked along, Hermione was glad that she was finally getting somewhere, and even better, Cori was pulling her suitcase along for her.

Taking a train back to the city center, aptly and most creatively named 'Central', then a taxi up to the Peak, Hermione passed in a daze, the combination of exhaustion, hunger, thirst, and that relentlessly pounding headache were making her light-headed. Finally reaching the Sussman home, she allowed herself to be led to the guestroom, and promptly fell asleep, fully clothed, before her head even touched the pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dearest Harry, Ginny and Ron,_

_First of all, since I couldn't bring my owl with me to Hong Kong, and I have yet to discover how it is that wizards sent their post here, I'm muggle mailing it to Harry. And I'm hoping he can do me the favor of forwarding this to you two Weasleys._

_Anyway. Hong Kong has been quite interesting and seems to be a perfect fusion between England and China. When I first got here, I was so worried that no one would speak English, but it seems that more people speak English than Cantonese! And even when they do speak Chinese, they just pop in a couple English words here and there anyway! It is beyond fascinating._

_The family I've been staying with, the Sussmans, have been wonderful, but as I've already told Ginny, they are extremely lenient in terms of what Cori, their daughter, can do. She's only fifteen, but at least once a week, she dresses up in these beautiful little dresses that must have cost a fortune, and goes out with her friends to the partying districts. She gets home at about five the next morning, totally drunk. I'm in the room next to hers, and I can hear her on the phone with her friend or whatever, ranting and raving about one such guy, or Club so-and-so, and how 'awesome' it was. Fifteen she may be, but to be honest, she looks at least 19 when she goes out and acts like it as well! _

_I've been spending most of my time walking around the city, finding little cafés for me to sit in and read or study. It really is so interesting here. I wish you guys could've come with me!_

_Anyway, enough about my holidays. How have yours been so far? Please write! Ron, Ginny, I'm sure your father will be ecstatic at taking a trip to the muggle post office! If you don't think its safe (haha), maybe you can send the letters to Harry? And he could help forward them. _

_Love, _

_Hermione_

_p.s. the address is on the envelope._

* * *

_  
_

Hermione was having trouble sleeping, so she had decided to write to Harry, Ron and Ginny. Quickly glancing at the clock, she realized it was already four in the morning. Sighing, and cursing jet lag under her breath, Hermione got into bed, to try get some rest. She was just about to doze off, when she heard the machinegun chatter of her host start up in the room next door. Groaning, she tried to block it out.

"I know! He was so totally cute! Haha, I can't even remember what his name was. Something with a 'B'. Like, Brian, no, um… What? Right! It was Blaise. Haha."

At hearing the name of her archenemy's best friend, Hermione sat up ramrod straight in bed.

_What the hell! My HOST was partying with Mr. Blaise Zabini, the evil evil Slytherin, and he's 'so totally cute'? Someone out there is out to get me. _

"He was really sweet. Well, sweet enough to buy us all those drinks anyway. I don't think he realized how expensive drinks are in 'Gecko'… Hm? ... Yeah… He was acting kinda odd though. Like, he didn't really belong. But whatever. I mean, he did spend a ton on us, and he was an _awesome_ kisser. I wonder if he has friends around… Come again? ... Oh yeah, I think Dawn has his number… Ok, bye, I'll see ya later babe. "

_She kissed Blaise Zabini? And he bought them drinks? Did he realize how _young_ they were? What was he doing?_

Hermione could hear Cori stumbling around her room, and the occasional curse when she rammed her shin into something.

Bang.

Then a muffled squeal of pain. "Ow ow ow ow _bitch_ oh goddammit, thathurtslikeamotherfuckingbitch."

Raising her eyebrows, Hermione wondered what it was that Cori could have done to herself to illicit that particular phrase, and whether she should go see if she needed help. And being the incredible Samaritan that she was, she unlocked her door, and went and knocked on Cori's.

"Cori? Are… um… are you ok? I some noise and it sounded like you hurt yourself…"

Hermione could hear a muffled 'fuck' and some shuffling, before the door unlocked, and she could see the face of her young and rather inebriated hostess.

"Um… Hermione. I'm sorry about making such a racket. Did I wake you? You want to come in?" She opened the door a little wider.

"Uh, sure Cori."

Stepping inside, Hermione saw for the first time what it looked like inside her hostess' room. Clothes and various accessories hung from every surface, books strewn across the floor and table, photos of friends and family adorning every vertical surface.

_Well, at least it smells ok._

"Wow. You ok Cori? I noticed your knee's bleeding."

Cori looked down and dabbed the cut with the Kleenex she was holding. "I'll be fine. I just accidentally knelt on my Swiss Army Knife."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry; did I wake you just now? I know I was being a bit noisy… I just got back a couple minutes ago."

"No, no of course not. I'm just a bit jet lag still, that's all. So where did you go last night… or this morning?"

"Oh, I was just out with friends, in Lan Kwai Fong. We met a couple cute guys and stuff, who bought us drinks. Went dancing, drinking, ya know, the usual. Nothing spectacular." She paused. "Please don't tell my parents."

Flustered at what she should do Hermione took a deep breath. "You know, you shouldn't be doing this. You're what, fifteen? And you go out _drinking _and picking up random guys for Christ's sake. You're too young to be drinking alcohol in the first place. I've never had an alcoholic drink, other than maybe the odd sip of wine during dinner, but getting drunk at your age? Then getting strangers to buy you drinks? Aren't you at all concerned about your own safety?"

Cori just looked at her. After a couple of seconds, a kind of controlled anger flashed across her face.

"Do you think I don't know the risks? Do you think I'm the worst one out there? I'm considered a fucking _prude _even, because I'm still a virgin. I know girls that have been having sex since the age of twelve. What do you have to say to that? You need to let up. Go experience something for once. You spend all your time sitting around reading, getting away from the real world. Well, I'm trying to experience the real world. People don't always treat you like the adorably innocent person that you are. I am learning how to deal with that. You couldn't deal with that if your life depended on it. How old are you. Seventeen? Sixteen? I don't know. But tell me, what kind of worthwhile experiences have you had? What have you done to have real and unadulterated fun? Answer me that."

Hermione was speechless. Eyes cast down, she thought to herself _'When was the last time I had real fun? Sure I love to read, but it's not really fun, is it. I never go out with friends. And anyway, it's summer. It's not like they're all going to find out if I do something stupid or out of character… Oh who am I kidding? I'd rather spend my time in a bookstore anyway.' _

Raising her eyes wearily, Hermione said, "Well, if it's any condolence, give me some time to get over my jet lag, and I might get out." _Not_.

Bidding Cori good night, she closed the door and walked back to her room, finally exhausted from being forced to face the truth about her social intelligence.

* * *

The next day, Hermione set off, determined to find some evidence of magic in Hong Kong. She wandered up and down the streets in the Central Business District, trying to figure out if she was seeing anything everyone else wasn't, if she could walk by certain areas without suddenly veering off in the opposite direction. Letting her feet carry her around, Hermione lost herself in the hustle and bustle of the city. The sights and sounds were so different to that of London. The greenery in the background, with vast constructions of steel and glass taking the forefront. Her mind began to wander as her feet took her down the streets, up and down unknown areas, and before long, she was totally lost. Walking by a small bookstore, she tried to find someone that looked like they spoke English. A hushed voice caught her attention, as she gazed around for a foreign face.

"Damn it. I couldn't find any reference whatsoever to that hex, and I'm telling you, that bastard is going to have my head if we can't find a way to reverse it on that muggle he cast it on. Why the fuck am _I_ stuck to clean up all his goddamn messes?"

Whirling around, Hermione saw a tall, blond man talking rapidly with a smaller Chinese guy, both looking very flustered. Her heart leaped as she realized they had to be wizards, so she walked up to them.

"Um, excuse me for interrupting, but I'm new here, and I'm looking for some place I can access the magical part of Hong Kong."

The two men looked shocked out of their wits, and Hermione briefly wondered if she had mistaken their conversation, and muggle wasn't just a slang word for something else. But the blond smiled at her suddenly and said "Of course, of course. Forgive me. Magical folk usually come with others that know the area, so they don't need to go around trawling for a way in. Now, you see that little bookstore?" He pointed to the shabby stall that would have passed as anything but. "Well, go inside and talk to the woman. She'll help you get into Cordeillan Street."

Thanking the man and his companion, and elated by her discovery Hermione walked into the little store. Just stepping into the shop, she looked around and noticed that nearly all the books she could see were muggle, and they were as old as the dusty antiques that lined the streets of Hong Kong. Walking further in, however, the books became of higher quality, looking more and more like the regular spell books she was used to dealing with. Many of them were written in Chinese, but a couple here and there were in English or even German and French. Hermione could here a rapid gabbling as someone spoke on some form of communication, and she wondered how exactly it was that she'd be arriving on the so said 'Cordeillan Street'. Pushing even further into the store (it extended even more in than she ever expected), she found an old, wrinkled woman talking to a bowl, obscured behind a badly placed bookshelf. She was talking in a mix of Cantonese and English, only the odd word that Hermione could understand. She caught onto 'people… fly… stock… forgotten…' and then a string of words that were most definitely neither English nor Chinese.

"Uh, ma'am?"

The woman looked up sharply and squinted at Hermione, before seemingly shouting at whoever was on the opposite end of the rice bowl and slamming it upside down.

"What." She frowned deeply at Hermione.

"Um, well, I was told that if I wanted to get to Cordeillan Street, I should come speak with you."

The old woman grinned toothlessly, and replied in impeccable English "Of course. Now. There's a standard procedure I must go through to let you in. Very simple. Just show me your wand, or something that would tell me that you are in the know of any magical community at all. It's a mere petty formality."

Hermione drew her wand out of her bag, and showed the woman.

"Ah… very nice, very nice. Mr. Ollivander, I presume. Yes, I know his work on sight. Excellent wandmaker I dare say. Now, you need to move to the back of the store, and you will find a stone lion. All you do then, is tap it on the head, left paw, right paw, with your wand, then say 'diableret'."

Smiling again, Hermione thanked the woman, and proceeded, finally, to the very back of the store. As told she found a beautifully carved stone lion, and doing as instructed tapped the lion, and said 'diableret'. At first, nothing happened, and Hermione began to wonder if she had perhaps pronounced the password incorrectly, when the lion started to change. It seemed to turn to wood, and then suddenly, the lion became a large square. A large, red square. Two brass knockers morphed out of the wooden surface, and a golden light split the wooden square down the middle. Where once stood a stone lion, now stood a pair of traditional red Chinese double doors.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione took a step forward, and bracing against the doors, she pushed them open.


	3. Chapter 3

An explosion of sound greeted Hermione's ears. After having spent several days in Hong Kong, she was already getting used to the continuous hustle and bustle of the raving city, but this… this brought the phrase 'assault on the senses' to a new level. The sounds, smells, colors that surrounded and formed the street lines with vendors selling dubious trinkets and questionable snacks, stores selling anything Hermione could imagine, and a little more. The incessant laughter, shouting, screaming, chatting, and the medley of languages that sprang from human and forked tongues alike. The soft rumble of people's feet beating down upon the pavement. There were bright bursts of color, contrasting to the dull gray-brown of the buildings lining the street. Red, orange, fluorescent greens and electric blues screamed from the windows, advertising brooms, Chinese cuisine, pets, books, clothing and various animal body parts.

Hermione stood there for a second, her mouth hanging slightly slack, feeling like she had stepped into a new dimension, where the entire wizarding world had been compressed into that one street. The vividness and stark contrast was incredible. She stepped into the street, and was instantly pushed and pulled in thirty different directions at once, and she began to feel slightly claustrophobic. She tried to make her way to a nearby bookstore, gently saying 'excuse me… sorry… can I get by here… sorry sir…' before realizing her tactics weren't working.

_When in Rome, do as the Romans._

Taking a determined breath, she pushed and shoved, elbowing people and barging her way through the crowd. She heard the odd "Ow!" and "Hey!" that followed her progress, and she felt that perhaps she took that little phrase a bit too far, but the heck with it.

She stepped out of the blaring sunlight, and into the cool and muffled quiet of the bookstore, trying to take in her surroundings; she took another deep breath, only to end it in a fit of coughing. There was more dust in the air than in the forgotten storerooms of Hogwarts. Her eyes began to water at the difficulty of breathing, and she looked outside, unwilling to compete with the rest of the crowd to get to a different store. Spotting someone obscured by the smog, she made her way over, hoping that the figure spoke English, and knew Hong Kong better than she did.

Getting closer, it turned out to be a young woman. Her brunette hair seemed a bit mousy, but perhaps it was the air. Her eyes were alert, and she looked too foreign to really be of much help, but Hermione gave it a chance anyway.

"Excuse me? Ma'am? Um. I was just wondering…"

"How I breathe in here? I use the bubblehead charm. Do you know how to cast one?"

Laughing nervously, Hermione said yes, but she wasn't sure of the legal age to use magic in Hong Kong.

"Oh, no worries. It's sixteen. You know, it's really quite ridiculous. In Mainland China? There _is_ no limit. They're all barbarians out there."

Relieved, Hermione pulled out her wand and cast the bubblehead charm on herself, giving a clearer, but slightly warped view of the shop she was standing in. She said 'thank you' and heard the syllables reverberate in her personal atmosphere. Grateful for the cleaner air, Hermione began to wander around the store, looking at the books on the shelves. As she browsed the titles, she pulled down the occasional book that looked mildly interesting, only to put it back again. She became immersed in the search for new information, and wiled away the hours, peering through the grimy air into the dusty tomes and volumes that packed the shelves. Eventually, she had worked her way to the very back of the store, and was looking through the last few bookcases, having missed out an entire section, marked, she thought, slightly humored, with bright red 'magic' marker:

_/TOUCH/OPEN AT OWN RISK._

It came as a slight shock that she had reached the back to the store, and looked abruptly to her watch.

"Shit." She muttered. It was already 8:30. She had been in the shop for a good four hours. Sighing to herself, she thought, the heck it was the last bookcase, and who's missing me anyway?

It turned out that this was one of the most interesting selections of books Hermione had ever seen. They ranged from _The Fusion of Science and Magic_ to one of the most sought after editions of _Arithmantica Principia_, an ancient work on advanced Arithmancy. However, the thick tome that caught her attention was a black bound leather volume, covered in a layer of dust. She pulled it out, and was at once entranced. The cover of the book seemed to be boiling on the surface, swirling in the subtlest manner. The sliver lettering on both the spine and cover had been worn away, but when she opened to the first page, the black ink against creamy parchment stood stark and bold.

_The Memoirs of Shi Wu Lian_

Hermione gasped. Shi Wu Lian was a notorious wizard, who had ruled magical Asia hundreds of years ago. They had touched briefly upon him in History of Magic, discussing the ways in which he had developed the method and style of magic used in many parts of rural Asia. Hermione's mind was in shock for several seconds, before doubt streaked through her mind.

_It's in English._

Shi Wu Lian was Chinese. He lived in a period of time before China had been touched by Europe. If this was hi Memoir, it would be written in ancient Mandarin. But this book was in English. How could it be? She flicked through the book, and indeed, the entire volume was written in English. Reaching the back cover, she found several smaller loose sheets of paper, which had been tucked into the spine of the book. These too were in English. She read through them.

_This discovery is spectacular. The book consumes me. Wu Lian's methods and ideas are remarkable, and so unique. It's strange, however. I study the book, and translate. I hope to pass on this incredible new knowledge on. But as I translate, I become more and more absorbed in the text. I find myself wondering about what else the book holds, at the most inappropriate moments. The other day, when I was with my mistress, I suddenly wondered: How is it that he discovered_

The text ended. So this was a translation. But it was Shi Wu Lian's work nonetheless. Who could have translated it? And how did they come across such a valuable treasure? She shuffled through the other loose sheets, obviously notes taken by the man that translated the ancient texts, reading small excerpts from each.

_The days pass, and I find it harder to approach daylight, and the scent of fresh blood excites me, and it's magical properties call to me. My mistress is worried, but I have not felt better in my life._

_The translated book is my greatest treasure_.

Hermione could feel that her breath had sped up. This book held hundreds upon thousands of secrets, never before seen, of the ways of an ancient wizard. And it was for sale in this tiny store. She stuffed the loose pages back into the back of the book, and flipped it over looking for a price. She didn't notice a sheet drift free and land on the floor, covered in tiny script. There in the corner of the back-cover was a little golden number, obviously placed there by magic. It read $275 HKD*. Her eyes bright, she hefted the book under her arm, and moved back to the front of the store.

"Could I get this one?"

"Wow. I didn't realize you were still in the store! I was actually just preparing to close up. Here, you want a bag?"

As Hermione rummaged through her bag for the money, the lady placed the book in a brown paper bag.

Handing over the exact amount stated on the book, Hermione took the bag, thanked the shopkeeper, and left the store. Outside, the sky was dark, as night descended, and Hermione hurried to find a cab to take her back to the Sussman's home.

* * *

Back in the bookstore, Kate, the shopkeeper, was cleaning up, picking up various pieces of trash left by the few customers that day. At the back of the store, a small piece of paper was lying on the floor, and she crumpled it up without a glance, and tossed it into the trashcan. After picking up the rubbish, Kate went and dusted and swept the shelves, not that it mad much difference, before locking the cash register and locking the front door of the shop, so that she could go home.

The small piece of parchment covered in tiny script, lying crumpled in the trash, read:

_Please. Whoever may read this. I am the manservant of Sir Charles Boncoeur. He is the man who converted this terrifying knowledge into the English language. I am writing this, as a warning, to whoever may be unfortunate enough to find his translation. This knowledge, upon being incorporated into a human's brain, will warp and change their behavior, as has happened to my dear master. After having read the texts, he became someone different. He was ruled by recklessness, taking chances, before descending into further madness, convinced that he must purge the earth of those that do it harm, and concocting plans of enormous violence, murder, and war. In short, he lost his mind. He was no longer who he used to be, the text changed him, and eventually caused him to murder his wife and mistress, ending in the conviction of murder on two counts, and earning him the death sentence. He was hanged. This parchment may never reach the book in which the translation lies. The original was destroyed, thank the Lord, but I have only been able to slip this into the notes my master wrote, hoping that he would place them with his precious, precious translation. Should you, dear reader, find this book, and read what I have written, I tell you, with greatest caution, whether you be peasant, king, slave or great ruler, burn the book and it's notes. For your mind's, and the world's sake._

* * *

_  
_

Hermione was entranced. She had read the first chapter of the translated book, and it had explained to her how to connect slightly with the world around her, and the magic present in all the various objects and beings. She stood in the middle of the room, eyes closed. Thinking through the instructions, she cleared her mind, and tried to reach out.

_I wonder what it'd feel like, when I connect with the magic._

Nothing.

Frustrated, Hermione opened her eyes again, and realized how warm it had gotten in her room. She went and propped open the window, before trying again.

This time, a few seconds after she closed her eyes, a gentle, moist breeze blew through the open window, playing on her face. At that moment, she felt a small tingle in her fingertips that started to move upwards along her arms. The light tingling moved onto her face, leaving her rest of her body, and settled on her eyelids. She felt cautious and wary, all of a sudden, and a little voice in the back of her head warned of danger. She quashed it, and opened her eyes.

The world exploded.

Hermione's senses were assaulted, the sudden acute awareness attacked her skin, she could feel the individual fibers in her shirt pressing against her skin. The dim light filtering through the night seemed bright as day. She could smell the perfume Cori was using in the next room, along with her own sweat. Sweetness lingered on the tip of her tongue, from the apple she had just eaten. The pounding of her heart sounded like a bass drum pressed against her ear, and it was counterpoint with the shrieking whisper of Cori on her mobile phone.

Suddenly, these extremes died, and everything returned to normal. Shocked, and more than a bit scared, Hermione shakily walked over to the mirror, recalling from the book, that the magic may change the user, upon contact. She looked normal, though, perhaps, were her dark brown eyes just a shade lighter around the pupil? Maybe.

She looked at the clock on her desk. It was just verging on eleven, and Cori was preparing to leave and go party for the night. An idea entered Hermione's head, through her minds backdoor, and pranced around her head, screaming "Look at me! Look at me!"

She looked at it.

"Let's go party!"

Hermione went to find Cori.

* * *

A frantic phone call and twenty minutes later, Hermione was standing outside the house, along with Cori and her friend, Dawn. Dressed in a tiny dress that came about a third of the way up her thigh and in killer stilettos, Hermione was feeling more out of place than ever. And she was cold, with a strong breeze threatening to lift what little material covered her dignity. Before leaving the house, Hermione had asked if she could bring a light jacket, or even a scarf, to keep warm, but Cori had severely admonished her for even thinking about it. "What are you going to do with it, once we start dancing? More likely than not, you'll forget it!" Hermione was starting to think that going out that night was a very, very bad idea, but for some reason, she just kept assuring herself that everything would be OK. The taxi arrived, and they got in, Dawn sitting in front. This arrangement made it easier for Cori to 'debrief', as she called it, Hermione on proper clubbing etiquette.

"You are not to leave us with someone you just met."

"Why would…"

"When we get home, you have to act at least pretty sober, and try not to say anything. Let me do the talking, if there is any to be done."

"But I'm not…"

"Quiet. You can put dibs on someone, but if he's interested in someone else, you can't hold it to them."

"I'm not going to…"

"Try not to get it on with someone more than six years your senior. Anything above thirty, especially if he looks it, is a no-go."

"What? Above thirty? But…"

"And last but not least, no giving numbers or personal details unless we all consent. Your last name is now… Kent. You can use a different first name, if you like. Your's is a bit hard for people to hear over music."

"Uhh… What? Why are you using an alias? What's the legal drinking age in Hong Kong? What should I say my name is?"

These questions, Dawn answered. "Drinking age is 18, you look like a… Rachel. But you could always just use Mia, I guess. We use alternative last names, because last time when we gave someone our real ones, he turned out to be a stalker."

Hermione looked at her, wide-eyed. Before turning suddenly to get out of the cab.

They had arrived.

The three girls climbed out of the taxi, emerging on the bottom of a steep, upward sloping road, lined on either side with bars, clubs, buildings that had different parties going on in each floor. People spilled out of the establishments, only to be swiftly replaced by the human tide, pressing in from all sides. To Hermione, it seemed that a good quarter of Hong Kong's population had shown up that night. Money and alcohol flowed freely, and the crowd reveled in its quick distribution.

"And this, my dear Hermione," Cori said with a flourish, "is the great and wonderful land, of Lan Kwai Fong."

* * *

*HKD: Hong Kong Dollars


	4. Chapter 4

Bloody hell. How am I going to walk up that road in these heels?! There are so many people, and it's not even a bloody holiday!

"You should see it at the Rugby Sevens, in March. Freaking insane. This is just an average weeknight. People'll be here until, oh, 5 a.m., but the majority usually disperse around 3."

This was Dawn, who mistaken Hermione's slack-jawed expression of trepidation for awe.

"Let's _go_!" Cori shouted, and marched confidently into the crowd, a heeled foot never wavering on the brickwork road, and she disappeared quickly from sight, leaving Hermione with Dawn.

Dawn gave Hermione a pitying smile, as if to say "oh you poor, deprived thing," before grabbing Hermione's hand and shouted something over the din that Hermione didn't catch.

And they were off.

Off to where, Hermione wasn't sure, but she had little chance of wondering, what with attempting to keep her footing on the floor littered with broken glass, and spilled beer, avoiding being stepped on by the people around her, and trying not to touch the bodies that pressed in from all sides, an effort which proved fruitless.

For a brief moment, Hermione looked up and quickly gazed around. She could see men standing around holding beers at a pub further up the street, on her left, three gorgeous young women (_they look like models!)_ stumbled out of a darkened stairwell, laughing loudly. Hermione craned her neck around, trying to get a better look up the stairs, and she caught a glimpse of a set of glass doors in a darkened hallway, guarded by a large bouncer, and an older wiry man. As she did so, she lost her footing slightly, and snapped her eyes back to the ground.

Dawn was still fearlessly pushing her way through the crowd, though on occasion she would shout a cheery 'Hey!' to someone she recognized.

Suddenly, they took a sharp turn to the left, and Dawn hauled her into her first bar. Looking around, the establishment appeared full to Hermione's inexperienced eyes, with no space to sit down. A long bar lined with high seats was taken up by various couples and the small booths, though designed for six or seven, were occupied by smaller groups. Hermione leant over Dawn's shoulder and said, "It's quite full, isn't it? I can't see anyplace to sit down, maybe…"

But she was cut off by Dawn's highly amused and sympathetic look.

"Darling, this is a bar. Not a restaurant. It's full when there isn't any space left to _stand_. And anyway, those guys over there seem to have met Cori already, and they're giving us the eye, so none of this talk about nowhere to sit."

So, once again, she snatched Hermione's hand, and led her over to the table where Cori was sitting with three fairly attractive guys, who seemed to be only slightly older than themselves. As Hermione walked over to the table, weaving their way between other people, she told herself: '_OK, calm down. This isn't the end of the world, you're just meeting some people in a bar, maybe have some fun.'_

When they reached the table, they were greeted with friendly smiles from two of the guys there, the other simply nodding. Looking closer, Hermione saw that they weren't as attractive as she thought in the beginning, just quite average, in fact. Cori introduced them, speaking loudly over the music.

"Hey guys, this is Jason," she gestured towards the dark-haired Chinese teen, who smiled dazzlingly, "Mark," the sandy haired one with pale eyes, the color uncertain in the dim lighting, who gave them a cheesy grin, "and Tony." His hair was quite long, almost obscuring his eyes, and when he nodded again, it fell in front of his face, forcing him to flick his hair in a most arrogant manner.

Dawn leant over the table and introduced the two of them, saving Hermione the task of introducing herself. She was still getting used to the idea of being considered physically attractive, and wasn't quite as confident as the other two around unfamiliar people. So she just smiled shyly, and sat down next to Cori, Dawn choosing to sit beside Tony.

They ordered a few drinks with fancy names, and chatted for a few hours. At one point, Cori asked Hermione to join her in the bathroom, and they had the regular girly talk while primping.

"So. Having fun yet?"

"I guess. Though it's a bit hard to talk with the music so loud and all. It's nice meeting new people, I mean, going to a boarding school in the middle of nowhere, it's a bit hard to do."

"Well, they're not all that great, and there's a huge party we should get to, so we can dump this bunch and head off. It'll be much more fun."

"Oh… Ok then…"

_People are so disposable…_

So, about half an hour later, just about one a.m. by Hermione's watch, they arrived outside Club Sugar, where a party was in full swing. The line waiting to get into the club was immense, but thanks to connections and a guest list, they breezed up to the front, and had their wrists stamped by the bouncer. Hermione looked down to see what the stamp looked like, only there seemed to be nothing there. Turning to the bouncer she said "I think your stamp is out of ink."

The tall burly man seemed to be just holding himself back from rolling his eyes when he replied "U.V."

"Oh. Of course… I'm sorry…" But before she could get anymore out, Cori snatched at her, and she got going, where, naturally, another bouncer stood, waiting at the foot of an escalator, with a U.V. light.

Hermione could feel the music pounding as they rose up, and it just kept on getting louder, with the bass vibrating the handrail, and suddenly found herself in a rather strange area. She was surrounded by soft, white, geometric shapes that stretched from floor to ceiling, and were glowing gentle blues and pinks. Looking closer though, she could see gaps between the shapes, and following Cori and Dawn's lead, she found that navigating her way through the shapes, deposited her on the dance floor.

Lights were flashing, people dancing in a solid mass, their bodies pressed so close together that they became one giant moving entity. A long bar stood in the center, people clamoring for the bartenders', needing to rehydrate, and continue swallowing down the alcohol. At the back of the room were raised platforms, with private tables crammed with apparent 'VIPs' sipping champagne, and against the other walls were red, oval loveseats where couples twined in each other's embrace were illuminated by gentle lighting.

Hermione stood awestruck for a moment, and was suddenly hit with recklessness. To Dawn and Cori's surprise, she grabbed _their_ hands, barged her way to the bar, and shouted over the din, "Order me something strong!" Dawn raised her eyebrows, and leant over the bar, waving an arm, calling "Brian! Brian! Hey, dude! Over here! Get me a Black Russian!" With lightning hands, the bartender tossed something together, Hermione wasn't sure if she wanted to know what was in it, and slid the glass over the countertop, and immediately started making the next drink.

Dawn took it and gave it to Hermione, who slurped it down, grimacing a bit at the burn on her tongue and throat. She paused a moment to evaluate what she could taste of it, over the alcohol, and said, "Hm. It's got coffee. Not bad. Now let's dance."

Cori was grinning wildly, glad that Hermione had finally let go of herself, and the three got on the dance floor.

Immediately after finding themselves a suitable spot (as proclaimed by Cori) amongst the writhing bodies, the masses shoved them together, making the situation far more intimate than Hermione ever expected. However, this was apparently quite normal, as Cori and Dawn automatically started to dance with one another, while seemingly on the lookout for something, their eyes roving about the crowd, stopping here and there, dismissing people mentally, and moving on. Cori glanced at Hermione, and rolled her eyes.

"What are you looking at? Come on and _dance_!"

With the shouted final word, she pulled Hermione even closer, and promptly started to wriggle her hips. Even with a stomach full of liquid courage, Hermione was feeling rather hesitant about this all, her earlier confidence vanished. She began to sway a little, even if just to make the situation a little less awkward. Suddenly, Dawn leant over Cori's shoulder, and half-shouted into her friend's ear "Three o'clock, in the black wife-beater and spiked hair. Gwai.*"

Hermione turned around, and looked over to where Dawn was indicating. Indeed, a rather attractive boy was dancing with a few of his friends a few meters away, but in the crowd, it may as well have been a thousand.

"Guys, let's go that way."

"Sure."

And with that, Cori and Dawn began edging their way over to the small group, still dancing, and making it seem like they were just coincidentally next to them. Hermione looked on with interest, and not a little amusement.

_I think that drink is really beginning to hit me._

As she watched, still swaying, though it was more pronounced now, and actually with the beat, Dawn began to really put on the moves, slowly grinding her way up and down, shaking her butt in a most Shakira-esque way, and basically drawing as much attention to herself as possible.

_This is never going to work._

But lo and behold, the boy looked glanced over, and just so happened to catch Dawn's gaze, and she gave him a coy smile, and then continued dancing with Cori. He leant over and spoke to his friends, and began to approach with another guy, this one a brunette wearing a blue T-shirt.

_And so the mating dance begins._

The boys approached Cori and Dawn from behind, both of whom slowly backed themselves into their arms, and quite soon they were grinding with each other, their faces close together, all thoughts of Hermione gone from their minds.

_Well, I guess I'm on my own now. Maybe I'll get another drink, and find someone interesting to chat to at the bar__. It is open bar after all…_

With that thought, Hermione swayed over to the bar, allowing people to jostle her about, and not really noticing that she was already quite tipsy. Finally reaching the island of glasses and half-empty bottles, Hermione waved her arm about, trying to grab the bartender's attention to no avail. After attempting to elicit some reaction from the busy men who were tossing tumblers around, she decided to instead just stand for a while, and look around at the people. There was a surprising mix of faces (in Hermione's point of view, anyway) vying for the bartender's attention: about an equal mix of locals and foreigners, some obvious underage patrons*, and one or two that seemed at least double the average age of everyone else in the bar. She glanced around, seeing several good-looking boys, and more than a few girls eyeing them up and preening. She was just observing the way in which one of the girls who had been discretely watching one of the boys sidle up to him and accidentally on purpose stumbled into him, when suddenly someone slid up next to her and placed an arm around her waist.

"You look like you need another drink."

His voice was lilting as he whispered into her ear, and she was able to hear his light accent. Hermione turned around, and lay eyes on a head of auburn hair and icy blue eyes.

"Hello. I am Olivier. From France. You want a drink?"

* * *

*Gwai: short for 'gwai lo', meaning 'ghost' in Cantonese, a caucasian male. The term is also commonly used by local expats, and was once considered derogatory, but now widely accepted.

*The legal drinking age in Hong Kong is 18.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hello. I'm Olivier. From France. You want a drink?"

"Oh, I suppose so." The confident buzz that Hermione had suddenly evaporated, when confronted by this attractive young man. Over his shoulder, she could see some other girls at the bar giving him appreciative glances, but noticing that he was occupied with someone else, turn their attention elsewhere.

"What are you drinking? I think you are a Malibu Coke girl?"

Not knowing what it was he was talking about, and only hearing half of what he said over the pounding music, Hermione nodded dumbly. Olivier shouted over the din, and a dark-skinned bartender moonwalked his way over and took the order, a little to Hermione's chagrin.

"So, what brings a pretty girl like you to Hong Kong?"

Hermione ducked her head and blushed, not used to being complimented on her looks, and a little surprised, too. After all, Cori and Dawn had done very little in terms of getting her fixed for the night: pulling her hair back from her face into a bun, a little dash of mascara and lip-gloss and she was ready.

"Oh, I'm visiting a friend. And yourself?" She managed to force the question out, and as she finished asking, the bartender placed a dark drink on the surface in front of her, which she eagerly grabbed and took a sip of, saving herself the hassle of shouting more over the music.

"I am on exchange, studying Chinese in the University of Hong Kong. Where are your friends?"

_Good question, Olivier._

Craning over the crowd to try spot Cori and Dawn, Hermione thought she glimpsed them not far off, though Dawn had progressed to having her arms thrown around the guys neck and they were kissing fiercely. Hermione pointed in their general direction, and Olivier nodded in response.

"You want to dance?"

Hermione nodded, but pointed at her drink first, indicating she wanted to finish without having to shout over the decibels thrust forth from the speakers. She slurped it down, deciding that she quite liked it, and perhaps she was a Malibu Coke girl, and taking a breath, smiled at Olivier, ready to go. He took her hand and led her into the pulsing throng. Despite the alcohol lowering her inhibitions, Hermione couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable at the masses of people forcing her to press up against Olivier and she found that his body was taut, and lightly muscled.

_OK. Take a breath, and just let it go. Have fun, remember?_

Taking her own advice, Hermione took a deep breath of the humid air, which, incidentally did not help, and relaxed slightly. Olivier had decided on a spot, and he turned around to face her, already moving to the music. Not sure quite what to do, Hermione turned around as well, which in hindsight to her was a slightly awkward move, and closed her eyes and let the music take her. She felt him move up behind her, his chest against her shoulders, and when they were moving in tandem, Hermione finally let herself go.

The duo danced on, and to Hermione it became a blur. Cori and Dawn stopped by on their way to the bar at some point, giving approving glances to Olivier, with knowing grins on their faces, and at another indeterminate point of time, Hermione and Olivier had started making out. He tasted slightly of cigarettes, but more strongly of some sweet liqueur, and they continued to move together. Later, Hermione recalled him asking if she wanted to leave, to which she responded to in the negative (though not without some consideration), and he nodded and turned to kiss her, still dancing.

The crowd started thinning out around three A.M., and Cori and Dawn sought out Hermione, their hook-ups having left already. Admittedly, Hermione was tired, having been out most of the day, as well as having the remainder of her jetlag to contend with. With a rather lengthy goodbye to Olivier, Hermione departed with Cori and Dawn, the two of them questioning her about her experiences.

"Well, he was very nice. I'd rather not kiss and tell! But it was different from what I thought it would be like: it wasn't all groping and sloppy kisses and drunkenness. It was actually rather sensual. Oh damn, I didn't get his number!"

Cori replied to this realization with the consolation that they would likely run into him again, what with the area being so small, and by the nature of Hong Kong city to simply push acquaintances together. Dawn hailed them a cab, and the two piled in, saying their goodbyes, and headed home, Hermione eager for some sleep.

* * *

The next few days followed in much the same vein, though to Hermione's disappointment they did not see Olivier again. Cori and Dawn had taken it upon themselves to show her around the city, in particular dragging her around shopping malls and visiting different bars and clubs. Hermione would have much rather explored Cordeillan Street, and constantly wondered about the way of life of these foreign witches and wizards. She was constantly on the lookout for more signs of magic in the city, though most were fleeting: did that plant in the flower market look strangely familiar to something in Greenhouse 5? Was that dark little store selling chopsticks or wands? Was she the only one seeing that dingy alleyway?

A week on, and Hermione, tired of being hauled through various stores that looked the same, wrangled herself out of Cori's grasp and chose to stay and try read some more of Shi Wu Lian's Memoirs. The day was rather damp, and from her window Hermione could see a thick fog rolling in from the verdant hills. Hermione grabbed the heavy tome, and seating herself on her bed again could not help but notice the vague silvery sheen of the leather. She found that by looking at the book out of the corner of her eye, the ephemeral movements settled, but writhed about and became silver cords that bound the book throughout, and seemed to cover some text on the cover. But looking at the book like that gave her a headache, so she eagerly flipped to the second chapter.

Throughout the afternoon, Hermione immersed herself in the ancient techniques of the magical crafts from the _mo li shi_ of China, to the _vedma_ of Russia. They spoke of allowing the natural powers to inhabit one's body, and from that point coax it into doing one's bidding. The text mentioned briefly the European methods, which were more inclined to forcing and bending magic to one's will, whereas these much older methods worked with it on equal levels. In several notes in the margin of one of the pages, the translator had theorized that European magic users assumed themselves above and apart from nature, and this created restrictions regarding the extent of the magic that could be used. With this "Natural" magic, the body is the channel of the magic, through natural means, connecting it with the rest of the environment, allowing manipulation of basic elements.

As Hermione read, immersed in this new and exciting knowledge that she was uncovering page by page, the fog she had seen earlier had thickened and was moving at a rapid pace towards the house. Soon, it was pressed against the window, so thick it was impossible to see out, and the reflection off the white vapour was near-blinding. As the fog had thickened, so too had the silver wisps on the cover of the tome, becoming a swirling ooze that congealed around Hermione's hands, totally unnoticed. As she read on, the immaterial substance slipped under her fingers, and began to seep into Hermione's skin and the fog began to slowly abate. She felt her hands become a little damp, but taking it for the humidity in the air and general heat of the day, Hermione wiped them on her pants, and quickly returned them to the cover, where the process continued. Her eyes never left the page.

* * *

"Hermione."

"_Hermione!_"

Hermione snapped her attention away from the book, she was so absorbed in it and she was so near the end. A mere chapter or two separated her from the back cover. She so dearly desired to finish it.

"Sorry Cori, I was really into this book. What's going on?"

Cori rolled her eyes, but replied, "We're going out tonight. Just you and me. Dawn's taking a night off, but this amazingly hot guy just texted me to say he wanted to meet, and I don't really know him, so you're coming with. And what did you do to your hair? I mean, I know it's bushy, but did you like, back brush it or something? Anyway, we're leaving in a couple hours, so start getting ready. No rush jobs this time."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes at this rapid-fire speech, but nodded her assent. After all, she had been reading all day, and was a little sore from being in the same position, and her hands were a little clammy. Getting out would be good. Glancing outside, she noticed that the fog had entirely disappeared, leaving the evening clear. She could see the sunset over the tropical treetops, bright pinks and oranges draped across the low clouds.

_Well, regardless what I do, Cori would probably go and redo it anyway. May as well go shower._

* * *

Despite the spare hours that Hermione had thought she would spend sitting around watching Cori get ready, it turned out that she was the one that ended up running around primping. She had showered and cleaned up, found a decent pair of jeans and what she thought was a pretty top to wear out. She found an old tube of mascara (the only makeup she owned, and knew how to put on herself, besides lipstick), swiped some on, and went to knock on Cori's door to check if she was presentable. The door opened, and Cori raised an eyebrow and said "Well, at least you're in house clothes, so if I get makeup on them it won't be much of a loss."

Trying to hide her slightly hurt pride (she thought, she'd dressed herself quite well), but realizing that perhaps this place was much fancier than what she thought, she allowed Cori to spin her into the cluttered bedroom and sit her in front of her dresser, and just did as she was told, after all, she knew very little about this kind of thing, and made a mental note to herself to try learn how to put on makeup. After all, a girl needs to know these things; she couldn't always rely on there being a Cori or Lavender (who did her makeup and hair for the Yule Ball). What if she had to find a job in some swanky company? She couldn't just waltz in as a little plain Jane.

So Hermione sat, and followed Cori's instructions.

"Look up. Look down. No don't move your head, just your eyes. I don't want to poke you with this. Close your eyes. Stop twitching! Hold still, I don't want to smudge this."

After a good half-hour, Cori told her she was ready, and sent her off to 'get dressed'. Which again, ended up with Hermione borrowing some of Cori's clothes, and a pair of shoes from Cori's mother. Tottering over to the mirror, Hermione thought "_I look like I'm about to head to a bloody red carpet event! We're going to see some bloke she's only met once, and I feel like paparazzi are going to be there. What have I gotten myself into?!"_

"The cab's here! Hermione, let's go!"

And so Hermione teetered her way to the front door, and blissfully slouched into the back seat of the waiting taxi, trying to pull down the short dress that rode up every time she made the tiniest move. Cori told the cabbie where to go and turned to Hermione, ready to prep her for the night.

"There's going to be a lot of people at this thing, it's the opening night for a high-end music store, so there's going to be a bunch of local South-East Asian DJs there, and probably a bunch of paparazzo. Just smile and pose a little, and we'll be fine. He said he's put us on the guest list, so we should be in just fine."

Hermione nodded, and sat through the rest of the ride in silence, looking out the window and taking in the views, while Cori chattered on her phone, bragging to various people about the opening event she was going to.

When they got to their destination, not far from Lan Kwai Fong, the clubbing district Hermione was getting weirdly familiar with, all Hermione could see of the base of the building were a mass of men dressed in black holding preposterously large cameras.

_Oh hell._

Cori strode up to the crowd confidently, 'excuse me'-ing and pushing not a little bit to get through, with Hermione following silently in her wake. As they made it through, she could see a large standing board with the company logo printed all over it, and a slightly used red carpet leading to the front entrance of the building. Cori was speaking to a haughty looking woman holding a clipboard, who was giving the two of them the 'up down'.

"We're on the list. Under Sussman and Granger…. There!"

The woman went through the motions of striking them off the list, verifying who they were using their phone numbers. The paparazzi, realizing that they weren't simply some people trying to get into an exclusive party, started vying for pictures. Noticing the hubbub, Cori grinned and pulled Hermione over to the board and started posing, all the while giving Hermione encouraging looks, and revelling in the limelight.

"Miss, miss! This way please."

"Can we get your names? In case this goes in the paper."

While they were going through this slightly intimidating process, someone else had arrived. And instead of having to push their own way through the hoard of paparazzi, and a large, burly man, who wouldn't have looked out of place in the Olympics for weight-lifting, was simply wading his way through, not really caring who he pushed aside. Following behind, and getting practically mugged by the paparazzi, was a slender, exquisite young man, with an older woman on his arm who was equally stunning, in a rather slinky and form-fitting dress. Both were smiling in an exceptionally bored manner, simply going through the motions of being famous.

"Is this your son, Ms. Zabini? Very handsome."

"He looks so much like you. This way please."

"You're looking wonderful tonight ma'am. Can we have a picture?"

Hermione looked at Cori, who was waving to no other than Blaise Zabini, and then turned, slack-jawed to stare at Zabini himself, who was gliding his way forward with his mother, looking quite the part of up-and-coming socialite. He lifted an eyebrow, and noticing her horrified look and gaping mouth, said quietly "Granger, have the decency of closing your mouth. It won't be very flattering looking like a whale-shark in the newspaper."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: If anyone has spotted any grammatical errors, typos, or inconsistencies, please message/comment about it! It bothers me so much when mistakes just pop up like that, seems to throw of the sentence. Thanks! And enjoy!

* * *

Hermione's jaw snapped up with an audible click, and her expression of horror turned into a glare. Cori turned and gave her a questioning look, at which she turned back to the paparazzi and plastered a smile on her face. After a few more minutes another pseudo-celebrity had arrived, and the awkward foursome made their way to the elevator that would take them to the event.

Cori bounced along happily, Blaise's mother was busy looking sultry and aloof, Hermione was trying to conceal her glare, and Blaise, the centre of this delightful situation varied between giving Cori saucy grins and shooting amused glances in Hermione's direction.

They reached the eight floor, and stepped into a showroom already half full. The Zabinis immediately fluttered off to socialize, and Blaise gave Cori a brief "I'll be right back."

The duo went and found a waiter handing out glasses of champagne, and they began people watching. Cori was mildly star struck, hurriedly whispering rapidly to Hermione.

"Oh! That's the actor on that soap my mom sometimes watches! He's so short in real life… And there's the news anchor, Amy something-or-other. That guy really looks like Mr. Kadoori, the real-estate mogul."

Cori babbled on, and Hermione took in the crowd as they snagged another couple glasses of champagne. Everyone was exceptionally well-dressed, and she could see Blaise's mother animatedly holding court near the centre of the room, the sun for a glittering cosmos of rich and famous personalities. And Blaise… ah, he seemed to be trying to extricate himself from two girls (obviously daughters of some other socialites, neither of which had been blessed with good looks) who were clutching at his elbows and refusing to drop the conversation, to which was shaking his head vehemently. His expression became haughtier and more disdainful as the continued harassing him. Hermione watched on, amused, as did Cori, who was instead looking on with a little jealousy. He eventually spied them watching the minor debacle, and scowled, finally doing away with social pretences, wrenched himself away, and walked straight from the girls to his mother. A quick word and he materialized by Cori.

"Let's go. This is getting tedious. I know somewhere that'll be more fun."

Cori looked slightly put out, having wanted to meet some of the personalities, but agreed. The two walked off arm in arm, with Hermione lagging just behind them.

Getting out of the building, they quickly made their way to the crowded club area. Cori was following Blaise, and had grabbed hold of Hermione's hand, not knowing where they were headed. They came to a stop on the fringe of a good sized crowd, all pushing to get through a set of huge wrought iron doors under a similarly designed sign, 'Privé'. Elbowing to the front of the crowd, Blaise nodded to one of the doormen, who walked over with an expectant look.

"I'm on Lionel's list. Blaise Zabini. Plus two."

The man spoke into a small mike attached to his collar, listened for a moment, raised an eyebrow and gestured them through the imposing entrance and into the pounding bass, much to the chagrin of the crowd, many of whom were suddenly testifying to also knowing this 'Lionel'.

Cori gave Blaise a quick look, and he replied, "Oh, Lionel's the manager. Here, I'll introduce you. Hopefully Guillaume is here too, he's a lot of fun." He moved quickly and fluidly into the crowd, leaving Cori and Hermione standing at the bar.

Cori waved a bartender over, "Two glasses of white wine please."

Taking the spare moment, Hermione had decided that she was feeling somewhat out of place in this crowd of moneyed and socially influential people.

"Cori, I think I might go home soon, I'm feeling a bit tired, and _Blaise_ should be able to look after you now, right?"

"But I've only met him once! You really have to stay, Hermione. Please? Besides, Blaise's friend is sure to be good-looking. Why don't you just wait to see how this will play out? I mean, we've only been out about an hour." Cori pouted a little, but also looked genuinely concerned about being alone, so Hermione conceded defeat and nodded reluctantly.

So she and Cori stood sipping their wine, taking in the crowd. Soon, Blaise returned with another man behind him, who seemed to know absolutely everyone in the club. He looked rugged, but boyish, his thick blond hair standing up in tufts, looking like he had just stepped out of a wind tunnel.

"Hermione, Cori, this is Guillaume. Guillaume, Hermione and Cori."

They shook hands, and Guillaume turned, and gave a nod to one of the club employees, who smiled and gestured for them to follow.

Guillaume leaned forward and whispered (or as best he could over the pounding bass) conspiratorially in a rolling Irish accent, "I've partly emptied a VIP room so we can chat. The music is barely a dull roar in there."

With that, they followed him through the crowd, all the while being greeted and eyed curiously, and occasionally not without some degree of jealousy. They made their way through to a nondescript door, near the DJ booth, which was watched over by another bouncer, standing menacingly in the shadows.

The room they entered was filled with plush leather seats, and rough black marble tiling shot through with white and gold gave the sense of a moody boudoir. The walls were a deep wine red, set with several gaudy mirrors and wall lamps. One wall seemed to be made of dark glass, which overlooked most of the club, and appeared to have them situated directly behind the DJ. There were some others in the room, but unlike the fawning masses outside, the three men and one woman glanced up, nodded to them in greeting and continued on with their discussion.

They all sat down, and Guillaume started off the conversation with a casual "These seats were initially velvet, but a party a while back degenerated into an orgy, so we had to get rid of them. A bit of a shame." Cori laughed awkwardly, while Blaise grinned to himself as if in memory, and something spurred Hermione to ask "Is that the most ridiculous thing that's ever happened here?" Which was all Guillaume needed to start regaling them with various obscene and often hilarious anecdotes, mostly involving sex, drugs, and copious amounts of alcohol, as Blaise added his own comments here and there. The conversation drifted about, from the club, to music tastes, travel, the city, and a melange of other topics, and the drinks continued to flow for a good deal of time.

Hermione slowly noticed that Guillaume seemed intrigued by everything she had to say, and simultaneously noticed that she was also very drunk. She caught herself wishing he would move closer to her on the couch. She could feel his tantalizing warmth, and was tempted to lean in towards him. Hermione also realized that she desperately needed to go to the bathroom.

"Excuse me, everyone, but which way is the ladies' room?"

"Here, I'll take you. I need to go myself. Not to the ladies' room, obviously. Though that could lead somewhere interesting." Guillaume stood and led her out. They had to weave their way through the crowd to reach the bathroom, and when they finally reached it, Guillaume turned to her and said "I'll wait for you out here, so you don't get lost on your way back."

She nodded and went in. After using the toilet, Hermione dabbed some water carefully on her face and neck, avoiding her make up, in a somewhat failed effort to sober up a bit. Taking a breath, she went outside and saw Guillaume leaning against a wall watching the crowd, looking extremely at home. He noticed her and smiled mischievously, eliciting her own grin.

_Oh shit. I think I'm just as drunk as before._

He held out his hand for her, so they could head back to the VIP room.

They were worming their way through the crowd, and Hermione found herself pushed up against Guillaume's back, smelling his spicy cologne, when suddenly he stopped and turned around to face her, so that they were chest to chest.

He leaned down so his lips were just brushing her ear, and said quite clearly, "There's something about you that makes me want you so badly…" And before he could finish, Hermione turned her head and pressed her lips against his, not quite knowing what had pushed her to do so. She pulled away in confusion, unsure of her actions, and saw Guillaume's eyes hooded with lust, and she gave herself up, kissing him again.

His hands felt hot against the sheer fabric of her dress, his lips insistent against hers, tasting woody from the whiskey he'd been drinking all night. She in turn pressed her body against him, feeling toned muscles moving under his shirt as he held her closer. Her hands were suddenly in his hair, tugging it coarse silkiness gently.

_Oh, how I want more of him!_

A small part of Hermione was wondering what she was doing, why she was kissing a man she had met several hours ago, and a friend of Zabini's, no less. But the part of her that so desired to rip Guillaume's clothes from his body and take pleasure in every inch of it, the part that had recently become unearthed, the part that now discovered it could do the things it wanted without consequence, was saying "let's do this because I _want _to, because it's raw and pure, because it's right, and it's what feels true."

For how long they stood amidst the crowd of revellers, first kissing then gyrating against each other, neither knew, but finally they pulled away breathing heavily, flushed, and with equally knowing smiles on their faces.

Guillaume held her hand again, and wordlessly turned and led them back to the door, where another moment of passion ensued. In the middle of it, Hermione opened her eyes briefly, and saw the hulking shape of the bouncer watching them with a raised eyebrow.

_Ugh! Well, tonight, I couldn't give a bloody damn what you think, apeman._

They entered the room to find Cori sprawled on the couch with Blaise on top of her, making out heatedly, his hand resting on her exposed hip where her dress had either been pulled or ridden up. Hearing them enter, they sat up, Cori smiling sheepishly, while Blaise had a cocky grin on his face. He glanced at his watch.

"So how was the bathroom?"

Hermione glared at him, while Cori stared cheekily at her, and Guillaume simply looked amused.

The other group of people in their room were still talking, without a glance their way, though their numbers had grown from the previous four, to nine, and Hermione felt that there was a strange and intangible intimacy about their gathering.

Both Guillaume and Hermione sat down, this time much more intimately, and their conversation resumed, turning somewhat understandably to sex, thanks to the lusty tension in the air. Hermione remained silent through most of this discussion, her level-headedness having returned full force. At one point, Cori turned to her and said, "Come on Hermione, tell us _something!"_ To which she answered, "I'm not one to kiss and tell." At which Cori shrugged and resumed her coy recollections of various experiences, though Hermione noticed that Guillaume's curiosity had piqued upon her reply.

Eventually, the conversation developed into rather blatant and obvious exchange of sexual nuances between Cori and Blaise, so Guillaume turned to Hermione and asked if she would accompany him to get another drink. She glanced at their table, littered with glassware, but agreed.

_What have I got to loose? He _is_ fairly sexy I suppose… What has gotten into me lately?!_

So again, they made their way out to the bar, with several hot, open-mouthed kisses to punctuate their way. Once at the bar, Guillaume ordered their drinks, and said rather abruptly, "This entire situation is terrible."

A little shocked and hurt, Hermione simply looked at him confused.

"I mean, no, not _this_. I would love to meet up with you again, but what's terrible is that you still have all summer here, and I'm leaving for Europe tomorrow night to visit some friends in Prague. It's rather a shame… Unless you could come with!"

He looked at her hopefully.

_Oh damn. I would love to go, honestly. Prague's such an interesting city, it's so steeped in history! And it would be loads of fun, just wandering about. It would be amazing to see all the cathedrals and the historical sites, and wander through the Old Quarter… And I'm sure Guillaume would pay for it, right? After all, he did just invite me…_

But despite her thoughts, Hermione took control of herself once more and replied "Oh, it would be amazing if I could go! I've never been before, but I really think I should get to see the rest of Hong Kong. Maybe another time?"

_Not to mention I can't afford it, and packing for tomorrow?! Not possible. Plus I just met him today! What is going _on_ with me?_

Guillaume gave her a comical pout, and then smiled.

"Ah well, I'm sure I'll be seeing more of you if you're around Blaise. I may come visit him in England."

"Oh, he and I are just… um… acquaintances. We have different crowds."

He looked rather thoughtful at this statement, but then shrugged and asked if she wanted to dance. She smiled in response, and led him towards the undulating crowd.

Some time later, the crowd had begun to thin out, as it was around 4 a.m., and they decided to head back to the VIP room, where Blaise and Cori were no doubt busy with each other. They entered the room, and as expected, Cori and Blaise were as they had been earlier, only this time, Blaise's dress shirt was unbuttoned, and his narrow but chiselled chest was revealed.

However, it wasn't Blaise and Cori's antics that caused Hermione's jaw to drop. She had expected the other group of people to have left, due to the late hour, but instead, they were now engaged in what appeared to be a lusty free-for-all.

And she could feel why. There was an odd static quality in the air, and it seemed to have an underlying scent of sex, which was so subtle it was as if it was but a memory. Hermione felt a powerful urge to explore Guillaume's body but remained transfixed at the scene unfolding.

Two women were occupied with taking turns kissing one of the men, while their hands simultaneously massaged a large bulge under his jeans. A man was kneading the breasts of a woman who was perched on his lap, her legs spread, grinding their bodies together. Another couple was standing with the woman pressed against a wall, her legs wrapped around the man's waist, their bodies somewhat concealed in the shadows. And on yet another couch, two men entertained each other, teasingly pressing, stroking and fondling each other.

As Hermione watched, astonished and fascinated, she sensed Guillaume move behind her, and his hand creep around her waist. His breath was hot against her neck, and she shivered. He moved closer, pull her gently toward him, and Hermione could feel his growing erection pressing against her bum. His voice was ragged and strained.

"_Fuck._ Fucking Bacchus _had_ to come tonight." He moaned softly, restraining himself. He continued to babble, seemingly to himself. "That's obviously not his real name, but I really don't know what it is. He's apparently some distant descendant of the real Bacchus, the Greek god. When there's a lot of alcohol present, as well as attractive people… Well, you can see what happens." He dragged his heated lips against the curve of her neck as he gestured towards the man being pleasured by the two women.

"Should… should we get them before anything too ridiculous happens?"

Cori and Blaise were entwined feverishly, oblivious to what was going on around them. With some effort, Guillaume moved away from Hermione and tapped Blaise on the shoulder.

"Mate, we should go."

Blaise looked up, dazed, but stood and helped Cori up. She blushed as she rearranged her dress, and suddenly became wide-eyed as she noticed the other group. After collecting their belongings, they left the room in silence, and proceeded out of the club. The night air was refreshing, and Hermione and Cori stood together, smiling slightly. Blaise and Guillaume were discussing something in hushed tones, but quickly turned back to the girls.

"Well, that was an interesting evening. You two heading home now?"

Cori nodded, and stifled a yawn.

"Yeah, I'm more tired than I thought. I'll see you around, Guillaume." She turned to give Blaise a parting kiss.

Guillaume nodded to Cori, and pulled Hermione into a hug, giving her a peck on the cheek, and whispered into her ear.

"Take care, Hermione. I'll see you in England."

She smiled at that, waved somewhat awkwardly to Blaise, and stepped into the taxi with Cori.

As they pulled away, Cori turned to Hermione and exclaimed, "What the fuck was going _on_ in there?!"


	7. Chapter 7

Over the next couple of days, Hermione relaxed with Cori, who had opened up to her considerably, having deemed her "less stuffy than before." Hermione had finished and reread the memoir, going further in depth with the details, attempting some of the things the book suggested, and taking some notes of her own.

One day, Cori came into her room to explain that she and Dawn were heading to Singapore for a couple days for a friends' birthday. She was terribly sorry, but she had forgotten, and was worried Hermione would be bored if left on her own.

"No, really, I'll be OK. I'm starting to recognize my way around. So I'll be alright. There's plenty for me to do, and I was actually planning on reading mostly…"

Cori rolled her eyes and left, shaking her head.

* * *

So Cori had gone, and Hermione spent her days wandering about town, usually with the memoir tucked into her bag. She had found another hard cover book, some trashy romance novel, and stripped it of it's cover, and used it to cover the memoir. After all, she didn't know if the shimmery effect of the cover was visible to Muggles, and even if it wasn't, she wasn't sure if she wanted to attract attention with it. No harm being safe.

She had found a coffee shop not far from Cori's house, called Pacific Coffee Company, known fondly as PCC, and installed herself as a fixture there over the next few days. And so, sitting in a cosy corner with a large glass of iced tea, Hermione delved into the discoveries of Shi Wu Lian.

_Tucked away and used by nature, this magic has the capability to unleash the most natural parts of it's subject and user, the basest and most elemental characteristics of the one manipulating it. For example, someone who is a survivor through brute strength will become stronger, but more capable of utilizing solid items of force, while a wilier being would become more conniving, and subtler in his manipulation of all things. It is interesting to note that someone who has been true to their character will change little: they have already learnt to express their natural desires, while someone who strive to be something other than what they are will be ultimately turned head over heels. _

_As this brand of magic is so well-governed by natural character, it is understandable that emotion and basic instinct also controls the force of the magic used. Beware, as casting a spell will have varying results in both force and consequence. The spell can also be altered in regard to the users intentions. _

_Because of the base nature of this magic, sex is very significant, as is blood. Sex between two beings of Enlightenment can have unprecedented effects, and vary according to the character of the individuals. Blood, too, plays a significant role, and can be used to dampen or strengthen a casting, depending on the intention of the user._

This interested Hermione greatly, though she wouldn't admit it. After hearing that Harry had been saved by his mother's love, Hermione had wondered about the role sex would have in similar magic. After all, can sex not also signify love? True to her character, Hermione had searched high and low for references to magic connected with sex, but found nothing that helped her. To her horror, and thanks to her certain level of naivety, she had found hundreds if not thousands of references to spells and potions to make sex more interesting, the sensations more intense, the participating members enhanced, manuals to sex with part-human creatures, and much more. Her search had stopped when she came across an illustration of a woman attempting to have sex with a centaur, when she decided she'd had enough.

But here, she found an immediate reference to magic caused and rooted in sex, and it fascinated her, though she would never say so.

One day, while sitting in her usual corner, her eyes out of focus on the page, fantasizing about all the implications of everything Shi Wu Lian had written, she was startled out of her reverie by someone's presence in front of her.

"… running into you here."

"Huh?"

"Imagine running into you here, I said. By the way, Guillaume says hi, and he thinks you could be a very, very naughty girl. I told him no, because you would rather die before step out of your comfort zone."

"And what exactly do you know about me, Zabini? You know nothing."

"I know that your only friends are Potter and Weasley because you're afraid that new friends may mean that those two goons abandon you. I know you study so hard because you're comfortable in academia, and if you stay in it you won't have to face the world. And the world is a very uncomfortable place."

"And you, Zabini are a spoilt brat who knows nothing about the real world, couldn't give a bloody damn about where you go in life and only give a shit about what people think of you."

"Oh, and sex. I care about sex. Don't forget about that. But that would be hard for you to forget, seeing as you're reading some trashy novel, no? Substituting the real thing for a book. A bit too predictable, don't you think?"

"It's not a trashy novel, you bastard. It's a mem…" She caught herself, and her jaw snapped shut, refusing to say more.

Blaise's brow scrunched in confusion. Here was a book who's cover clearly read "Aphrodite's Temple," and was obviously a smut novel dressed scantily in a sheer veil of Greek mythology. The cover illustration was of a busty woman in a toga that covered nothing, and a muscled worshipper in a loincloth.

"Can I see that? I love Greek myths." Blaise said slowly, extending his hand towards her. She looked at him with a blank face, still holding the book. Realizing she wasn't going to let him see, he did the only thing he could.

He snatched it out of her hands, and sprinted out of the coffee shop with a yelp of success, while trying not to spill his iced latte.

The second he'd grabbed it, Hermione tried to pull it back, but she couldn't have even run after him, her low coffee table in the way, and his legs were much longer besides.

_Wonderful. The useless bastard probably can't even understand it, and he's never returning it to me, so I'm never seeing that again. Absolutely wonderful. _

So she stuffed the rest of her belongings into her shoulder bag, and left the store in a huff. Hermione walked briskly back to Cori's house, upset at both Blaise and herself.

_What a dick!_

She arrived at the house, going straight to her room, and pulling out the notebook she'd been using for the memoir. At least she had this. So she sat down to organize and expand on her notes.

_Maybe with this I can find out more stuff about this theory. And there's no harm in practicing a little. _

* * *

The next day, Hermione sat and brooded. She hadn't finished studying that damn book! She had planned to for the day, and now couldn't decide what to do. So she set off to wander about, perhaps go back to Cordeillan Street. It was a weekday, so maybe it wouldn't be as crowded.

She meandered her way over to the bus stop, passing the coffee shop. The bus she needed was just pulling up, so she picked up her pace, and got to it just as the last person in line boarded. She paid and made her way all the way to the back. As she turned to gaze out the window, a flustered and windblown Zabini dashed onto the bus, slipping through the folding door, his hair all over the place, looking wild-eyed. He spotted Hermione and walked down the narrow aisle towards her, but the bus driver said something angrily, and he realized he had forgotten to pay, so he rummaged around in his pockets and dumped a handful of change into the till. He again made his way towards her, despite the lurching bus and her sustained glare.

He sat down in front of her and turned to her furious face.

"Here. You can have it back. I'm sorry." He shoved a wrapped parcel at her.

She just looked at him, so he paused and took a deep breath.

"I thought it was your diary at first, disguised as some shitty book so people wouldn't snoop. But that memoir is amazing."

A somewhat crazed look came into his eyes.

"It's exploring a totally different type of magic, and entirely different approach! It's like finding a new way to breathe! And the things he discusses… spectacular!"

Taken aback, Hermione continued looking at him blankly.

"What's wrong with you Granger? You must've read it already. I read it through last night…"

That snapped her out of her daze. "You read _all_ of it?"

He raised a delicate eyebrow. "Yes. I couldn't stop. Is that a problem?"

"Well, I didn't peg you as someone with enough of an attention span to read a chapter, let alone the entire thing..."

"You know, I was going to ask if you wanted to discuss it at some point. It's possibly the most exciting thing I'm going to find all summer. But seeing as you're on such intellectual high ground here, I'll just leave you be." He turned around in his seat, and Hermione stared at the back of his head for a moment.

"Wow, Zabini. I'm sorry…" before she could finish, he had whipped around in his seat and was talking rapidly.

"Excellent. Now that we're somewhat equal, I know you're free tomorrow night, so dinner in Central at Harlan's, 8 o'clock. Bring the book. Now I'm not staying one more moment on this filthy bus, so I'll see you then."

And he got up and staggered to the front of the bus for the next stop.

_What the hell?_

She hefted the cloth-covered book in her hand, and opened a corner of the wrapping. She saw the strange sheen of the books cover glinting through the hole.

_Well, there's no harm in double-checking. He is Slytherin after all._

* * *

So the next evening, Hermione got herself dressed and prepared to go for dinner, hopefully complete with some intellectually discussion, with Blaise Zabini. She had considered not going, but she knew she would have felt terrible about it. Plus, she had really wanted to talk over the memoir with someone, and as much as she hated to admit it, none of her friends would have been interested, or really understood, for that matter. Here was an opportunity for her to discuss it, and if Zabini was just wanting to amuse himself by insulting her all evening, she could just leave, after all.

She again made her away to the nearest bus stop, and once arriving in Central, found her way to Harlan's, getting lost only twice. She stepped into the restaurant and immediately felt underdressed.

_I should have known. Casual dinner and a chat with Zabini is bound to be in a restaurant with three Michelin stars and a celebrity chef. Of course._

The foyer she stepped into was well lit, with plush modern sofas. An entire wall had been replaced with a sheet of glass, overlooking the harbour, and creating a stunning view. The maitre d' gave her a quick once over, and raised an immaculately plucked eyebrow at her jeans.

"I believe there's a reservation under Zabini?"

The maitre d' looked stunned, but gestured for her to follow. The willowy Asian woman led Hermione through the restaurant, which had the muffled quality that generally permeates many such ridiculously expensive establishments, as if patrons and employees alike were afraid to disturb the wealth. Several small groups were seated throughout the restaurant, and two couples actually raised their eyebrows at her attire. Hermione simply tried to hide behind her hair, and walked a little faster.

They got to a corner table next to the window, where Zabini was seated, looking bored. He was wearing a dress shirt and jeans, but oozed wealth, and his clothing was obviously of some exclusive make. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow, before pulling a money clip out of his pocket.

"You are going to go upstairs and buy at least a pair of heels, to be worn immediately. You will also try to arrange what you are wearing into something appropriate for outside the house. Take my credit card. You can leave your bag here. Susannah, will you take her upstairs?

The maitre d', Susannah, looked extremely relieved that her newest customer would actually look like she belonged in the restaurant. Hermione gaped at Zabini.

"But I can't…"

Zabini just looked at her, and Susannah gripped her by the elbow, and pulled her out of the restaurant, leading her to an escalator that took them to a quiet boutique perched above the restaurant. Still disgruntled, Hermione quickly went through the racks of clothing and shoes.

_Well, if he's going to treat me like that, he is going to pay._

She picked out a pair of black patent leather heels, a slinky white top and an expensive looking belt with a silver buckle in the shape of a shell. Keeping her jeans, she changed and gave the cashier the credit card. The total came to a total of $17,050 HKD* which almost had her return everything. But she steeled herself and went through with it.

_He can blame himself for this later._

So the satisfied maitre d' led her back to Zabini's table. He nodded at her fresh clothing, and barely fluttered an eyelash when she handed him his credit card and receipt.

"I'm hungry, so food first. I recommend the seafood."

They ordered, and chatted as they ate, both making an obvious effort not to discuss their social circles. Hermione felt that he had changed somewhat, and seemed more intense somehow.

His eyes bored into her as she suddenly said, "You look different from the last time I saw you. You look… wilder. Feral, even."

"Is this some awkward attempt to insult me?"

"No, no. I think it's the magic. You've been toying with it, right? See I was right, you _are_ repressed!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, but it had gotten her thinking.

_More feral, eh? Well, I have been acting out somewhat, recently. But that's just summer, right? You relax and let loose…_

She looked up when Blaise started speaking again, but his voice was so low she struggled to pick out the words.

"I think it has changed me, too. I've been extremely restless over the past few days. And much, much more impulsive than usual. Impatient as well. And my libido's been in overdrive. Just reading the page in the book about magic and sex had me absolutely raring to go."

Hermione blushed, and had a terrible urge to laugh. Though she doubted it, she was concerned that Zabini may have practiced with the magic enough to bring out the worst in him, as well as the best. She looked at him and noticed that his eyes, originally hazel, had changed to nearly green. But perhaps it was the lighting. He turned to her and suddenly smiled, flashing his even, white teeth.

_Mum and dad would be impressed._

He waved over a waitress, and ordered two glasses of bourbon. Horrified, Hermione tried to indicate that she ddin't want it, but he insisted.

"It's a Tuesday night, Zabini!"

He simply shrugged.

So the drinks were brought, and while Hermione sipped minimally at hers, Blaise downed his measure of the amber fluid in several mouthfuls. They then proceeded to discuss the memoir, arguing here and there over different interpretations of the theories, and getting wild-eyed over the potential they held. The waitress occasionally stepped forward to refill Blaise's glass, which to Hermione's concern, he was emptying repeatedly at an alarming rate.

Their talk wandered about, but never strayed far from the theories, and the strong alcohol proved to be a wonderful lubricant for more outlandish and fantastical theories of their own.

The night wore on, and soon they were the only two left in the restaurant. Around 11, Blaise again waved over a waitress and paid the bill, but when he stood, Hermione noted uncomfortably that he had to take a moment to steady himself. The two left, and ambled over to a nearby taxi stand, with Hermione watching Blaise carefully out of the corner of her eye. They stood for a moment in silence, and then he turned to face her.

"I want to try something."

And he leant in towards her. She stood frozen in horror.

_I can deal with being attacked by the Whomping Willow, and when fighting off Death Eaters, but when Malfoy's mate leans in to kiss me I can't move?!_

His lips firmly brushed hers, and the world seemed to go haywire. With her eyes open, colours had exploded into impossible intensity. The world seemed to scream at her, she could hear the minimal rustle of her clothing, his breathing seemed to be a tornado in her ear. Her skin felt like someone was running and electric current over it, she could feel the blood pulsing in his lips, and her clothing suddenly became a heavy weight on her flesh.

That second, his eyes flashed open in triumph. "I knew it."

And he kissed her again, this time furiously, revelling in the new and extreme sensations. His renewed attack called powerfully to the newly awoken part of Hermione's character, the baser and darker part of her that had been unintentionally buried away under her studies. And it came forth now, wanting to be heard. She kissed him back with equal force, both wanting to take pleasure in him, as well as wanting to take revenge for manipulating her.

Pulling away abruptly, she heard a taxi coming and hailed it. And before it had come to a full stop, she had pulled open the door and was grabbing his hand to pull him in with her. He followed hungrily, and muttered something unintelligible to the driver, presumably his address. Then Hermione pushed him back and straddled his lap, kissing him fiercely, putting all her natural desire behind her lips.

* * *

*17,050 HKD = 2,200 USD/1,350 GBP/1,570 EUR


End file.
